“Elder, we demand an explanation!”
“Indeed, why were so many orcs attacking the village? We had no prior knowledge of this!”
“We were told there would only be a small pack of Netherworld Wolves, weren’t we? So why haven’t we seen a single wolf, and instead, orcs have swarmed us like a tide!?”
Within a room on the second floor of the church, marked as the “Elder’s Chamber,” a tense atmosphere hung.
Nine individuals were gathered there. One was, naturally, the Elder, while the other eight were the captains of eight different adventurer teams.
Originally, there should have been ten teams, but two had been entirely wiped out during the recent orc assault due to their weaker strength.
The captains had convened for a simple reason: they wanted a full account of the orc invasion, hoping the Elder would provide a satisfactory explanation. After receiving it, they intended to formulate new tactics or, perhaps, decide whether to stay or leave.
Yet, to their growing frustration, the seemingly benevolent Elder had remained silent, merely smiling benignly at them all.
Truth be told, this was infuriating. Most of the captains present were not known for their patience, and the Elder’s attitude only exacerbated their anger.
“Haha, I fully understand your feelings, everyone. However, I must ask you all to remain calm, no matter what…”
Finally, Ingmar waved a hand, signaling for quiet. “Regarding this matter, I am personally deeply grieved. Therefore, I, on behalf of the great and supreme God of Light, extend my most profound gratitude to the fallen warriors. May their souls find eternal salvation in paradise…”
As he spoke, he closed his eyes, adopting a look of profound piety. His hands moved through intricate gestures in the air, as if inscribing complex script or patterns.
Everyone remained silent.
‘We’re not here to listen to this, old man!’ they thought.
Despite their internal grumbling, the captains outwardly assumed expressions of both gratitude and devotion, mimicking Ingmar’s gestures across their chests.
After all, he represented the Holy Lan Papacy, the religion widely revered across the human nations of the Northern Continent. Thus, no matter how dismissive or pragmatic one might be, outwardly, one dared not show the slightest slack.
Otherwise, one might find the Black Monks of the Inquisition Tribunal apprehending and judging them for ‘heretical beliefs’ someday.
Once this lengthy ritual finally concluded, the captains exchanged glances. Ultimately, Chapman stepped forward.
“Elder, we are rough men, and our words may be uncouth. Please do not take offense…”
Seeing Ingmar nod with a smile, Chapman continued, “To be frank, I believe this mission has far exceeded its initial classification. It wouldn’t be an exaggeration to rate it as S-rank…”
“What? S-rank!?”
“S-rank? That’s a bold claim…”
“I recall the last S-rank mission was issued seven years ago, when thousands of orcs attacked Volantis…”
Before Chapman could finish, the room erupted into a cacophony of voices. Captains argued amongst themselves, some questioning, some affirming, but most remaining undecided.
Their reason was simple: the implications of an S-rank mission were simply too immense.
C-rank missions posed a potential threat to city security. B-rank missions threatened the lives of many within a region. A-rank missions represented a significant threat to the city’s overall safety.
As for S-rank, such events were largely relegated to historical records. It was rare for an ordinary adventurer to encounter one, for it signified a threat of such magnitude that ‘even with the full strength of the city, victory might not be assured.’
To illustrate, how difficult would it be to artificially create an S-rank mission? The answer: if all the mages in Volantis City’s Mage Association, including every Lv3 mage, were to collectively rebel—yes, rebel—only then might the S-rank standard be met.
Consider the power of the Mage Association. For comparison, Volantis currently fields roughly thirty thousand soldiers. If these soldiers were to engage in battle without the support of attached mages—meaning the Mage Association no longer participated militarily—against approximately two thousand mages, the mages would achieve complete victory. The thirty thousand soldiers would face utter defeat.
There is no need for surprise. It would be akin to a medieval cold weapons army encountering a fully modernized army equipped with planes, tanks, and artillery. There would be no contest; only an overwhelming, crushing defeat.
Of course, the real situation might also depend on the average level of the martial artists within the army. For instance, if every soldier were a Lv3 martial artist… then disregard everything previously stated. Cough, cough, cough…
Therefore, it was easy to imagine the profound psychological impact Chapman’s proposition had on everyone present.
However, Chapman merely cast a cold glance around. Once the surrounding chatter subsided, he continued, “I understand your doubts, but frankly, without concrete evidence, I too would find this hard to believe. After all, this concerns the lives and fortunes of all of us here, doesn’t it?”
At his words, everyone nodded in agreement.
Only Ingmar’s gaze, as he looked at Chapman, held a fleeting glint of shrewdness.
With a smile, Ingmar asked, “And what kind of evidence might that be? Personally, I feel Captain Chapman might be making too much of this. Even if this orc tide was indeed fierce, wasn’t it successfully repelled by us? And who’s to say this attack wasn’t merely a coincidence? After all, this is the Netherworld Forest…”
‘Right… after all, it’s the Netherworld Forest,’ everyone thought, nodding again.
This place had too many precedents; an occasional orc tide or two was hardly surprising.
To address this, Chapman remained unperturbed, continuing calmly, “Haha, Elder, I naturally understand your words. Jim… bring that in!”
“Yes, Captain!”
[Screech—]
At that moment, the room’s door swung open.
Striding in was a blond young man, and in his hands, he carried…
****
It was night.
In the blink of an eye, darkness had fallen.
Leya hadn’t expected a journey she thought would end quickly to be prolonged for so long.
[Buzz—]
Raising her Jade Saintess Sword, she mimicked a stance from the Severing Steel Sword Art and swung her blade.
‘I wonder if Erica is behaving herself at home. If she accidentally runs off again, will I have to go rescue her?’
[Buzz—Buzz—Buzz]
She swung her sword with abandon, choosing to cast those bothersome thoughts aside.
Though she still couldn’t even sever a fragile twig, Leya quickly immersed herself in the world of the sword.
Ten minutes…
Fifteen minutes…
Thirty minutes…
Sixty minutes…
She practiced until her arms were nearly numb and she was drenched in sweat, her inner garments faintly visible beneath her clothes. Only then did Leya finally stop.
Wiping the sweat from her brow, Leya was contemplating whether to continue practicing some large-scale magic when…
[Clap clap clap clap clap clap——]
From the nearby bushes, a crisp round of applause echoed.
Influenced by the saber’s sword intent, Leya instinctively adopted a battle-ready stance, seemingly forgetting that her sword couldn’t even cut a wooden branch.
“Miss Leya, you are truly amazing!”
“Oh? It’s Angela…”
Upon seeing this, Leya lowered her sword, resting the Jade Saintess Sword on the ground.
Indeed, the newcomer was Angela, dressed in a loose blue wide-sleeved nightgown, holding two cups of what appeared to be cold tea.
“Yes, indeed! I saw you practicing your sword here twenty minutes ago, Miss Leya!”
Looking around, she noted the lush green grass. Angela simply pressed down her skirt and sat down.
“Ah… I’m truly exhausted… I was busy all afternoon, my mana is completely depleted, and I’ve been standing for so long…”
Leya remained silent.
“Uh… Miss Leya, now that you’ve finally stopped, aren’t you going to rest? My teacher once told me that combining work and rest is the best method of cultivation!”
“Oh? Your teacher sounds wonderful. My former teacher used to say, ‘Grades, grades! To get good grades, everyone perk up! No rest until after midnight!’”
Despite her words, Leya chuckled as she settled down beside Angela.
“If you were coming, you should have come sooner. Weren’t you tired standing there all this time?”
“Well… I got lost in watching without realizing it… By the time I snapped out of it, it was already this late… Ah! Right, speaking of which, Miss Leya, your warm water…”
Angela’s expression suddenly changed, and she spoke with embarrassment. “It… it turned cold. Never mind, should I go get…?”
“No, it’s fine. Cold is fine. It’s quite muggy right now, so cold is actually perfect…”
“But…”
Though Angela wanted to say more, perhaps about getting an upset stomach, feeling unwell, or catching a cold, Leya had already taken the cup and drained it before she could speak.
As if still parched, Leya, to Angela’s utter astonishment, reached out, and a triangular bottle of purple liquid appeared in her hand.
She then roughly knocked the bottle cap several times with the hilt of her Jade Saintess Sword, opening the stopper. With Angela now completely dumbfounded, Leya once again drank the contents in one gulp.
“Miss Leya, you…”
‘This is completely inconsistent with your usual ‘aloof goddess’ persona! What happened to the refined lady image?! Please don’t reveal any strange attributes like this!’
Regrettably, though Angela longed to voice these thoughts, she was cut off by Leya suddenly handing her an identical purple bottle.
“Oh, I almost forgot about you. Here, catch. It’s grape-flavored; sweet and sour, very delicious.”
Without waiting for Angela’s reply, Leya tossed the bottle into the latter’s lap.
“………………”
‘It shouldn’t… be anything important… right?’
Thinking this, Angela was also genuinely curious about what this purple liquid actually was.
Of course, she was even more curious about the ‘grape’ flavor Miss Leya mentioned—what it tasted like, and what a ‘grape’ even was. ‘Ah… she truly is a noble. She eats things I’ve never even heard of…’
However…
She exerted all her strength…
“Heh…”
Yet, the stopper wouldn’t budge an inch!
“Haha, that was my oversight. I forgot to use a bottle opener for you.”
Angela remained silent.
‘Bottle opener… is she talking about that shimmering, silver sword that seems to radiate an aura of ‘immense power’?’
“Ah, no, no, I’ll do it myself…”
“Really? It would be much easier if I did it?”
Leya said, a bit puzzled, but still casually tossed her Jade Saintess Sword aside.
Angela remained silent.
‘Could… could it be… that this is how nobles live? Even opening a bottle requires a precious sword?’
‘How… how enviable! Oh, no, how hateful! Yes, that’s it, how hateful!’
After a long while, Angela, having exerted tremendous effort, finally achieved success. Using her incredibly clever mind, she ultimately… chose to smash open the bottle cap with the dagger she carried.
Cough, cough, cough…
Thus, with a mix of excitement and trepidation, Angela took a sip.
Indeed, the taste was just as Miss Leya described: sweet and sour… and quite delicious. However…
However…
She seemed to grow warmer with each sip, her body felt invigorated, and her thoughts became remarkably clear. Problems that usually stumped her, questions she couldn’t answer, suddenly found solutions!
How… how wondrous!
“Le… Miss Leya, this is!?” Angela asked, her face flushed—naturally, from the potion’s effects.
“This? I believe it’s called a Physique Enhancement Potion.”
Leya deliberately omitted the words “Essence-grade.”
But…
“A Phy… Physique Enhancement Potion!? This… isn’t this a special potion under national control!?”
Having attended school for several years and majoring in healing magic, Angela would have eventually realized it, even if Leya hadn’t said anything. Still, hearing it directly from someone else’s mouth made it far more impactful!
Angela couldn’t help but fantasize about what kind of influential noble family would treat such a rare potion like plain water, and casually give it away without a change in expression.
‘Even the most powerful second-generation noble at my old school wouldn’t have such resources… A super young lady like this… truly terrifying!’
“Controlled potions… are they really that rare?”
Leya genuinely couldn’t understand why people were so surprised by potions that the system gave her by the basketful, cheaper than cabbage, even though they were indeed very helpful for improving one’s physique.
Just like earlier, swinging the thirty-pound Jade Saintess Sword for an entire hour was something she couldn’t have imagined doing before.
“…………”
Angela, silently watching Leya’s casual display of wealth, was utterly speechless. Honestly, such potions were priceless on the market!
‘Indeed, descendants of great families really can’t be understood with our commoner way of thinking…’
As she thought this, Angela suddenly remembered something and exclaimed loudly, “Right! I came here to tell Miss Leya to come back to sleep!”
“Sleep… sleep!?” Leya asked, startled.
“Yes, sleep. Uh… it’s a communal sleeping arrangement, actually. The environment here isn’t great, and for safety, everyone chose to sleep together. I just don’t know if you mind, Miss Leya…?”
“Co… communal sleeping? Are men also present?”
“Ah? How could that be!?” Angela said, her pretty face turning scarlet, partly from the potion’s effects and partly from Leya’s surprising question.
“Counting you and me, Miss Leya, there are about six female adventurers. The room is quite nice, actually—the most spacious and cleanest one in the church, and it even has a bathroom… Oh, speaking of the bathroom, Miss Leya, would you like to wash up?”
“…………I’ll consider it.” Leya said, twirling a lock of silver hair by her ear, her expression troubled.
“Ah? You still need to consider it?” Angela looked at Leya, quite confused, then awkwardly reminded her, “Um… Miss Leya… I’ve been meaning to say this since earlier, but your clothes are so wet that… well, your white… can be seen.”
Leya remained silent.